Colleague - A blog on every pro to fun

I don’t know Elon Musk. We’ve never met. We don’t move in the same circles (he moves in circles that orbit Mars; I move in circles that involve finding a parking spot at Trader Joe’s). And yet, I feel like I’ve been inadvertently living in a guest house on his mental estate for the last decade. Here is a brief history of my one-sided relationship with the man who wants to put a chip in my brain. The Electric Envy (The Tesla Phase) It started on the highway. I was driving my reliable, gas-guzzling sedan—a car that vibrated aggressively if I went over 65 mph—when a silent, spaceship-looking vehicle glided past me. No engine noise. No exhaust. Just a glowing "T" and a driver who looked smugly comfortable. That was the moment I entered the "Tesla Envy" phase. The Dream: I convinced myself I was going to buy a Model S. I built one on the website. I chose the "Ludicrous Mode" option, mostly because I liked the Spaceballs reference. The Reality: I looked at my...

Before the world was obsessed with megapixels, touchscreens, and the anxiety of "read receipts," there was an era of simplicity. An era of buttons. An era of the Brick. If my life in schools was measured in grade levels, my social life as a young adult was measured in Nokia models. Here is the history of me and the phone that could survive a nuclear apocalypse. The Arrival of "The Brick" (The 3310 Era) I vividly remember the day I got my first Nokia. It felt significant, like being handed the keys to a tank. It didn't have a data plan. It didn't have a camera. It didn't even have color. But it had something better: immortality. The Nokia 3310 wasn't just a phone; it was a blunt force object. I dropped it on concrete, down stairs, and once, famously, into a puddle. The result? The floor broke, the stairs chipped, and the puddle evaporated out of fear. The phone just rebooted and asked me for the time. The Essentials: Battery Life: I charged this thin...

If you look closely at my life, you can measure it not in years, but in grade levels. For nearly two decades, my internal clock wasn't set to the sun or the moon, but to the academic calendar. My new year began in September, my hibernation period was Winter Break, and my liberation day was sometime in mid-June. Looking back now, the journey through the school system feels like a fever dream mixed with a coming-of-age movie. Here is the unauthorized history of Me and Schools. The Backpack Bigger Than the Kid (Elementary Era) It started with a backpack that was objectively larger than my torso. I remember standing at the bus stop, a small turtle in a world of hares, clutching a lunchbox that likely contained a juice box and a sandwich with the crusts cut off (thanks, Mom). Elementary school was a time of simple binaries. You were either a fast runner or you weren't. You had the 64-pack of crayons with the built-in sharpener, or you were borrowing from the kid who did. The Curricu...

 It started, as these things usually do, with a tragedy. There I was, minding my own business, when my trusty old phone—let’s call him "Old Reliable"—slipped from my hand. It hit the pavement with that sickening crunch that every modern human recognizes. I picked it up to find a spiderweb of cracks and a screen flickering like a strobe light at a bad disco. It was time. I needed a new smartphone. "How hard could it be?" I thought. "I’ll just pick the best one." Spoiler Alert: It was very hard. Entering the Rabbit Hole I opened my laptop and typed "Best Smartphone 2024" into the search bar. Big mistake. Suddenly, I was drowning in jargon. Snapdragon gen-what? 200 Megapixels? Periscope zoom? Nits of brightness? I felt less like a shopper and more like I was studying for a degree in electrical engineering. I found myself stuck in a three-way tug-of-war: The Flagship Giants: Beautiful, powerful, and cost as much as a used car. The "Flagship Kill...

We live in a world where you can tap a piece of glass in your pocket, and thirty minutes later, a hot pizza arrives at your door. We stream movies instantly, transfer money in seconds, and connect with people across oceans. To the average person, this is convenience. To a Web Developer, this is a series of logic puzzles, languages, and systems working in perfect harmony. If you have ever right-clicked on a webpage, hit "Inspect Element," and stared at the matrix of code underneath with a mix of confusion and curiosity, this story is for you. Becoming a web developer isn't about memorizing the dictionary; it's about learning how to speak to machines. Here is the roadmap to going from a "user" to a "builder." Chapter 1: The Foundation (HTML & CSS) Every great structure needs a foundation. In web development, there is no escaping the dynamic duo: HTML and CSS. Imagine you are building a house. HTML (HyperText Markup Language) is the framing, the b...

We’ve all had that experience. You land on a website, and everything just… clicks. The navigation is intuitive, the colors set the perfect mood, and finding what you need feels effortless. It’s almost like magic. But behind that "magic" is a person—a web designer—who made thousands of deliberate decisions. If you’ve ever looked at a digital experience and thought, "I want to be the person who makes that," you are in the right place. The path from viewing websites to building them can seem daunting, filled with confusing jargon and expensive tools. Here is the reality: web design is a learnable skill, a blend of artistic intuition and logical structure. You don't need to be born with an eye for typography, and you certainly don't need a computer science degree to start. This is the story of how you go from zero to job-ready, one step at a time. The Prelude: It’s Not Just About "Making It Pretty" Before you download any software, you need to reframe ...

It started with a conversation over steaming cups of chai in a cramped Delhi apartment. Outside, the city hummed with its usual frenetic energy—a symphony of honking horns and construction drills. "I love the opportunities here," my friend Arjun said, gesturing towards the window, "but sometimes, I just want to breathe. I want to see a horizon that isn't made of concrete." That sentiment sparked a debate that lasted hours and, in many ways, continues today. It’s the great Indian dilemma: in a country that feels like a continent, housing twenty-eight distinct cultural universes, where is the absolute "best" place to plant your roots? The question itself is a trap. Asking for the "best state in India" is like asking for the best flavor of ice cream. Are you in the mood for the complex spice of a masala chai, the cool sweetness of a mango sorbet, or the rich, dense texture of kulfi? To answer this, we have to abandon statistics for a moment and ...